We Are All Alone
by glitterscarves
Summary: Draco has learned many things from his father and his managed to realise the truth thanks to Severus but there was something Severus could not teach him, like how to love. NL/DM


_**I'm gonna leave you**_

_**I'm gonna teach you.**_

_**How we are all alone.**_

**Lyrics owned by Fall Out Boy.**

**This is a song fict.**

**Don't own HP or any of the associated characters, not even Severus as much as I would love to, or the song this is based on.**

* * *

Your parents teach you lessons when you are a child and they stick with you for life. Generally this seems to be a good thing. They take on their responsibility sensibly and send their offspring into the world with a clear head and an obvious understanding of how society works.

I do believe, my father taught my what he thought was correct.

I also believe he passed on these important nuggets of information to me as his father did to him so possibly I cannot blame him for everything.

Luckily I was graced with an angel, a greasy-haired and terminally foul-mooded angel, but a creature of god no matter what. Through his teachings I escaped the fate of my father, mother and my unfortunate brainwashed classmates.

But there were things Severus Snape could not teach me because he didn't know them himself.

Potter killed Voldemort (all thanks to the severe and intensive training from Severus) earlier than expected.

It didn't mean there weren't deaths but there were less than there could have been.

And we all managed to journey back to Hogwarts for our seventh year. Although I was the only Slytherin.

Dumbledore crazily suggested I move to another house. I refused.

It all began on the train.

Of course I was seventeen years old by this point and of age, meaning I did not need any parental guardian. Severus did not trust me to live alone though and neither of us particularly wanted to venture back into the Manor again so I stayed that summer with him in Spinner's End.

The house was disgusting. I found it hard to fathom why he enjoyed living surrounded by ancient books that seemed to crumble if you stared at them too long and how the dust did not irritate his nostrils like it did mine but I survived after cleansing my room thoroughly with a few handy spells.

Anyway, the train.

Potter and I had become amicable after the war, we had to be.

My godfather seemed to have taken responsibility for his life as well as mine and he seemed to enjoy using me as a punch bag for Potter's new spells.

In all honestly, he did seem more eager than I did but I was reluctant to spend time with sixteen year olds who startled every time I so much as moved my arm. But regardless I became his friend.

This delighted Granger and pissed Weasley off no end which made the whole situation worth it. There were some relationships beyond salvation, I knew I would never get along with Weasley but I had to award myself for every conversation he was involved in that I did not insult him.

I was staring out of the still window, having arrived early as Severus needed to rush off to get to school before the students did, when Potter fell in the compartment, grinning crazily.

"Draco," he said.

"Potty, you look happy."

"You bet. I actually could sleep! The whole time with no crazy bastard trying to murder me! Awesome," he stated enthusiastically.

"What a horrible thing to say about my father."

Potter laughed hollowly.

"How is your…family?"

"They are gonna be executed in two weeks."

"You alright?" he said softly.

"Of course…I realise nothing I can say about my childhood can redeem them."

"I am sorry…"

"I'm not. Where is Weasley and Hermione? Were the golden threesome actually split for the holidays!" I said, mockingly.

"Nah they are talking to the whole family, I went to look for you…"

I ignored his pitying voice and we sit in a companionable silence until Weasley and Hermione graced us with their presence. He sat quietly, glaring at me as discretely as he could manage while she spoke in torrents about the excitement of our final year.

I nodded and occasionally we would exchange passing remarks about shared classes as we appeared to be the only people in our year with half a brain.

Then he came in, well more like flopped in.

"Nev! Where you been?"

"Couldn't find you guys and then Trevor went walkabout again…"

"You found him though?" Potter asked, the hopefulness apparent in his voice as he could clearly not be bothered searching for that slimy Houdini.

"Yeah, he was terrifying first years. I thought I was bad but this girl was almost crying…" he trailed off as he noticed me, his eyes wide. "Hi Malfoy."

I finally tore my eyes away from the flashing country scenes and looked at him.

It was although my oxygen supply had been cut off and I was drowning. My head was throbbing but it was not painful, just a distant sensation and I could not breathe.

He looked different.

His skin was freckled prettily, unlike Weasley's swallowing mass of the things and it had a hint of colour absent in all our other years. Suddenly his puppy fat was gone, leaving him perfectly between thin and toned and his smile was genuine, instead of forced from fear of saying the wrong thing, of doing the wrong thing.

"Draco? You okay?" Hermione said.

I ruffled my hair slightly.

"Yeah, bit of a headache. I am going to get some water…"

I hurried from the compartment, stalking down the corridor of the train in search of the toilet. This could not be happening.

I thought I had thoroughly murdered any sexual responses in myself, especially for men. Then I realised. I didn't have to stifle my pressing sexuality.

I was free.

My father could not haunt me with his old fashioned prejudices and I no longer had to prioritise staying alive…

With my practiced Malfoy grace I walked back into the compartment and took my seat at the window with Granger to my side.

Although I had decided to give my ever pressing desires a bit of air, they were not allowed free reign at this precise moment so I opted to ignore Longbottom.

But Granger, the genius she is had other ideas.

"Neville, swap with me. I want to show Harry and Ron pictures from France."

"Erm okay," he murmured, sitting on the same bench as my but as far away as humanely possible.

"I'm not going to bite," I said, perhaps more arrogantly than necessary.

"I know…" he mumbled, blushing.

"I'm sure you do Longbottom…"

"I do!" he stated.

Once again I allowed my focus to be consumed by the flashes of green out of the window but they lost all reality as I really focused my attention on his face, reflected in the glass.

* * *

Weeks slipped into one another seamlessly and with the joy of seventh year classes came the joy of essay upon essay, especially from Potions where Severus seemed determined to leave us unable to write or chop by the time our final exam came along.

I thought nothing of Neville and really very little of anyone. I sat with Harry, Hermione and Weasley at meals but Longbottom rarely made an appearance, always attached to the youngest Weasley child.

I was not envious.

Before I really had the opportunity to assess the season or even what day it was, it was almost Christmas and that meant only one thing, well it meant many things but in the interest of drama, only one thing: Hogsmeade weekends.

As seniors, suddenly we were given the right to attend without teacher supervision which delighted Potter and Weasley in a way it really should not have.

I waited for the Griffyndor Trio at the bottom of the Tower that stupid portrait hated me for reasons I can only guess and was stupidly delighted by the fourth set of feet which echoed on the stairs.

"Longbottom coming?" I said to Hermione.

"Uh huh, thought you would be happy."

"What?"

She just smiled this all-knowing smile and looped her arm around both of her friends, marching ahead giggling with Harry and Weasley on other side completely confused.

"It's snowing," Longbottom stated, not at all deterred by being left to walk with me.

"I know," I said.

"You're not wearing gloves," he said.

"I burned them."

"Why?"

"They were my fathers…"

"Oh…Have these ones," he said, gently handing me a pair of woollen red gloves.

"Don't you need them…"

"Spare pair, I forget everything all the time remember?"

I nodded, slipping them on, trying not to let the shame at plainly Lion colours bother me.

We didn't say much, I never really did but the silence was not smothering, more natural. It felt as though we were meant to be quiet.

When we finally reached the village we caught up with everyone else.

"You suit red Draco," Harry said with a small smile.

I punched him jokingly on the arm with a snide comment about jealousy, just because I can pull off any colour or shade spectacularly.

After trailing through the shops after the excitable Griffyndors, we finally settled in the Three Broomsticks. Weasley pulled a chair over and perched himself in between Potter and Granger, leaving Longbottom and me behind them staring at each from across the table.

Another silence descended over us as the voices of our companions floated above our heads, we could hear their words but they were just white noise in the background, an irritating noise blocking us from being alone.

Under the table I pushed my knees against his and he blushed at me, his hands tightening around the glass bottle he clutched desperately. Smiling, I uneasily reached my hand to my knee and danced it over to his, clamping around his knee gently while I continued to grin at him over the table. His cheeks darkened again.

"I just realised, I want to go and get some chocolate. Come with me Longbottom," I announced, standing up.

He began to follow me, hitting his leg violently against the table as he stumbled after me, answering Potter's requests if he was alright with a hurried nod as he hurried after me into the snow.

I stalked past the majority of the other school pupils, Neville following me panting. I turned into an alley, pleasantly surprised when he managed to follow me without walking on.

"What are we doing here? I thought you wanted chocolate?" he questioned, his cheeks coloured with the snow instead of my actions.

"I could think of something much better," I said softly, shamelessly flirting with him.

"Like what?"

He was trying to seem oblivious and perhaps if I was not so perceptive he would have succeeded but I was well aware of a lion's careful ability of pretend innocence and grabbed the back of neck, pulling his face flush against mine.

"I wonder…" I whispered into his lips.

He looked like a frightened animal, timid and trembling under the fingertips and I could almost taste the perspiration trailing down his back.

Our lips were fractions apart but I would not close the gap. I dared him to, testing his Griffyndor insanity.

He lunged forward.

I resent anyone from that house who claim Slytherins are crazy, when Griffyndors are famous for blindly stupid actions.

Definitely sweeter than any chocolate. He was fresh and open, like air but superior. Earthy and natural. Soft, warm and damp. Like soil.

The collage of sensations, of tastes, of smells, of feelings blurred my mind. Nothing existed except his lips and the breathy moans vibrating at the back of his throat.

He was pushing against me so needily, like I was supporting him, keeping him anchored to the ground. His silk soft hair tangled around my hands and his bitingly cold and deliciously warm skin under my fingertips.

And he had me.

He completely devoured me but it didn't matter, nothing mattered but him.

We parted horribly, I instantly longed for his lips on mine and by the lost expression on his face he was feeling the same.

"Maybe we should go back…" he offered.

"I have my own dormitory," I said, leaving the implications to him.

He looked around, " we should tell everyone else we are going back."

I snorted but followed him obediently to the Three Broomsticks.

Lies slipped easily from his mouth and although they seemed unsure they accepted it easily enough, Hermione had that glint in her eyes again.

I took his gloved hand in mine and walked him to the castle, my legs pumping furiously as I raced closer with him following like a puppy behind. The closer we got the faster I moved, my thoughts clouding with the images of his skin and what he looked like under those infuriating robes.

I uttered the password quietly enough so he could not hear, not that he would remember it if he could.

Various younger year groups sat huddled around the fire, their dripping robes on the back of the couches. They all stared open-mouthed as I pulled a blushing Neville Longbottom up the spiral staircase to the empty seventh year dormitory.

Dragging him as though he were a rag doll I easily threw him on my bed, climbing on top of him as threw my robes off. He smiled shyly at me and I growled, attaching my lips to his neck as he squirmed beneath me, his growing erection rubbing against mine.

Letting go, I tore my pale green shirt my body and wiggled out of my slacks, urging him to do the same.

His cheeks flushed as I stared at him awkwardly undressing, he pulled the plain white t-shirt over his head with an acquired hastiness and pulled his baggy jeans off quickly, obviously not trying to prolong the experience.

I could not quite believe Neville Longbottom stood in his old, faded black boxers in front of my bed, his erection tenting said boxers while he looked at me hungrily and pleadingly.

I could not quite believe I seemed to enjoy the whole situation as much as I did.

With a growl, I launched myself at him propelling us both onto the emerald green coverlet of my bed. He gasped and this noise delighted me further, making rationality slide further away.

Teasingly, I fluttered kisses across the expanse of his chest. My lips sealing against his skin to suck softly for a second before I moved onto the next patch. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were closed.

He was beautiful.

I danced lower to the waistband of his boxers. I pulled them off easily, his body completely malleable to any of my whims.

His eyes opened and he looked at me uncertain. I winked and swallowed him whole.

He shot up, his hands rotting themselves to my head as he groaned sweetly.

His taste was all his own, I have never experienced anything quite to rival it and the feeling of him in my mouth is delightful.

After a while I pulled away slowly.

"Thank you," he whispered shakily as I settled beside him.

"Thank me later," I replied, my lips finding his again.

We kissed heatedly as his hands nervously stroked my skin, his innocence and his timid actions aroused me further.

I pulled away again, this time he reached for me and squashed our bodies back together.

"Be right back, relax you crazy little Griffyndor," I said softly and he giggled.

In my bathroom I raked through my cupboard, helplessly searching for one little tube which would make this evening go perfcetly.

When I came back through he was lying on his back, his eyes half-lidded and sweat decorated his forehead.

"What's that?"

"Something to make this a bit easier for you," I responded, curving around his side and kissing lazily on his chest. "Unless you do not want to."

"I didn't say that…Can we take it slow?" he mumbled, blushing again.

"I was intending to, don't worry."

I manuovered myself until we were facing each other, his hands on my waist. Discretely, I slicked my finger before pulling him in for another kiss. While he kissed me enthusiastically, I rubbed my fingertip carefully over the puckered opening until I could easily sense the increased rate of his breathing. Bravely I slipped it in to have him groan and push himself back against my hand.

"I thought you wanted to take it slow," I said gently chuckling as he coloured furiously.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"I'm not complaining but let's make sure you are alright yeah?"

He nodded, reaching up for my lips as I gently moved my finger inside him searching for something…

"Draco!" he exclaimed, signalling I had succeeded in my aim.

Soon enough I was up to three fingers and he was writhing against me, his moans and sighs making me delirious with need.

"You ready beautiful?"

"Yes," he hissed, pressing closer to me as his skin stuck to mine with the heavy coating of sweat covering him.

I lay him on his back, separating his legs as far as they would go and with a practised ease slicked myself. He watched me, concentrated with fear flickering in his eyes.

"Look at me, you'll be fine. I've got you," I said gently stroking his face with my knuckle as I positioned myself at his entrance.

"I'm ready," he breathed out.

Once I was fully consumed by his overwhelming heat I leant over him, placing butterfly kisses across his face and neck as I allowed him to adjust to me.

"Move," he urged.

"Pushy, pushy," I said hungrily thrusting into him.

We set into a natural rhythm, our moans and groans rising above our heads as we tumbled helplessly to orgasm.

"I'm sooo close," he said quietly.

I pushed harder, his face contorted into pleasure giving me the drive as he ejaculated messily on my stomach and seconds later filled him with my release.

Afterwards, we lay together under the heavy blankets. My arm looped around his shoulder as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist with his face nuzzled into the damp skin at my side.

"You're beautiful," I said to him softly.

He looked at me with an odd, unexplainable expression decorating his features.

"I'm sure," he said back, smiling but it did not reach his eyes.

"I am," I said, forcefully making him look at me properly. "I mean it."

He blushed again and my chest tightened, the colour of his cheeks a direct route to my insides.

He did not take long to drift into sleep but I lay awake all night, a horrible sensation settled over me.

The intensity of these unknown feelings, his heart breakingly warm smile, the way his perfect body moulded to mine as we rocked to heaven. They all led to the possible realisation that I could do something unforgivable.

I could fall in love with him.

I would need him.

I did not need anyone.

Lest of all Longbottom.

I slipped from the bed and sat in the bath next door, my eyes fixated on the door of the cabinet I searched through earlier in order to commit such seemingly frivolous acts.

Morning came but I was still sitting naked and surrounded by the icy porcelain.

"Draco? Where are you?" he called nervously.

"In the shower, get out," I said sharply.

"Oh…okay," his voice deflated, hurt, broken…

I was suffocating, I couldn't hear, couldn't think. Images of him swallowed by pleasure, the delight on his face when I told him he was beautiful…God he was so innocent, so easy to manipulate. I had taken advantage of him.

The poor thing.

But he needed to learn.

_We are all alone…_

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**Review pwetty pwease ^^**


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